


This One's For the Girls

by wintercreek



Series: ATA Sorority [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Community: sga_flashfic, F/F, Fraternities & Sororities, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-08
Updated: 2008-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercreek/pseuds/wintercreek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where they're sorority girls. Joan Sheppard learns to stop worrying and love the skirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This One's For the Girls

**Author's Note:**

> For the Skirt Challenge at [sga_flashfic](http://community.livejournal.com/sga_flashfic/), written during Amnesty 2008. Neither I nor this fic have any affiliation with the real Alpha Tau Alpha, which is an agricultural education organization. Full disclosure: I was a sorority girl in college, and the Caution tape comes from a real incident. The rest of it is all fiction.

Joan Sheppard's not rushing. That's not how she rolls.

Yeah, sure, her mom _and_ her grandma were ATA girls when they were in college. She's a double legacy, she's practically guaranteed a bid. But Joan doesn't think of herself as a sorority girl. She's more comfortable in pants than dresses. She'd rather be up a tree than at a tea. She _really_ doesn't do that whole tight-top pencil skirt outfit, 'cause a) you can't move in that and b) her body is nobody's business but hers. Joan's not here for an MRS degree; she's here for the math, for the history, and maybe for political science or something.

But there's this girl, awkward and too-smart in a sweet kind of way, who lives on Joan's floor. Joan knows her mostly because their RA, Elizabeth, is big on floor bonding and always wants them to sit together at dinner. One night, over cheap cafeteria fries, the girl in question - Meredith - bursts out, "I'm going to rush, not that I'm particularly thin or pretty or anything, but I hear it's good for the networking." Meredith blushes and then sets her jaw and asks the table, "Anyone else going to?"

Joan looks down at her plate, looks back up at Meredith, and says, "Yeah, I'm thinking about it."

*

Meredith finds Joan that evening; Joan kind of thought she would. They're out on the gentle slope of the big hill past the dorms and the sun's going down. Joan thinks the golden evening light is the closest thing to perfect she's seen yet. She wonders if Meredith can explain the weird, two-dimensional matte quality the world takes on at this time. She wonders if she's really going to do this.

"So, you're thinking about it still? Rushing, I mean?"

"Yeah. I'm a double legacy, so."

Meredith looks impressed. "Well, that's like the keys to the city, right there. What house?"

"ATA." Joan fumbles in the pocket of her jeans. There's a quarter in her hand now. "Hang on."

The only thing left that hasn't been flattened by the sunset light is the glint of the coin as it flips, over and over and over, before it lands in Joan's hand.

"Call it."

*

It's about how Joan expects. Skits and songs and a bunch of crap, but no one objects to the fact that she's still wearing her jeans. Meredith's not in her group, but Joan meets a girl named Teyla who seems pretty nice. She's a foreign student who bought the whole "Rush is a great way to meet people!" line, so Joan spends most of the day explaining things to her. Ironically, it seems that for Teyla Rush _has_ been an okay way to meet someone.

Most of it's a blur, to be honest, until Pref Day rolls around. Joan's slightly defiant in her slacks, despite the blouse and pearls that accompany them. Double legacy or no, they don't _have_ to take her. And double legacy or no, Joan's not sure she _wants_ them to take her. Teyla's not going to the ATA party and Joan hasn't really bothered meeting anyone else. She's just standing there, awkward and stiff, when Meredith walks in.

Jesus, Joan's starting to wonder if a dress might be worth it after all if that's what the right one can do for Meredith. Meredith in jeans and a t-shirt is nondescript, another college freshman with a Pegasus College hoodie blurring the lines of her frame. Meredith in a halter top dress that clings to her curves and falls to a kerchief hem just past her knees is lovely. Joan can't help but remember her mother's sly smile when she'd talked about college girls exploring their options, fashioning new identities. Joan's going to have to bleach her brain later, thinking of her mother and her, erm, options in the same moment.

They stand together, Meredith talking rapid-fire about her physics class and the utter moronicity of the professor _and_ both the TAs, and Joan barely catches a word of it, except to question whether "moronicity" is really a word. She's stuck on Meredith's lips - is that _lipstick_ she's wearing? - and thinking that this tea party better get started soon or she can't be held responsible for what she does.

*

Skirts have not ever been Joan's friends, but here she is wearing one. Her palms are slick and hot, and it's an effort not to wipe them on the satiny surface. Teyla, who ultimately opted out of the whole sorority thing, had appeared with lightening speed in response to Joan's desperate email. Despite being practically fresh from lacrosse practice, she'd brought what had to be half her wardrobe.

"I do not think you have reason to be nervous, Joan." Teyla works her calmly appraising gaze down Joan's body - headband, pearls, blouse, A-line skirt, sandals - before the girls make eye contact again. "You look very nice."

"I- Thanks, Teyla." Joan steps around Teyla to peer in the mirror. The last time she wore this many things that sparkled (headband, sandals) she was probably six years old and still wearing what her mother laid out for her. Teyla's handiwork has made her over in to a _girl,_ a girl who's about to initiate in to a _sorority_. Her disorderly cropped dark hair is neatly contained, her toes peep out from crisscrossed sandal straps, and the full lines of her borrowed skirt hide her legs from hip to ankle. At least the blouse and pearls are familiar, not that Joan would ever admit to anyone that she's _comforted_ to be wearing those things. It crosses Joan's mind to back out of the whole thing.

"Sheppard!"

That voice from the hallway can only be Meredith. "Yeah?" Joan calls back, the lurching in her stomach adding to her disease.

"Time to go. Chop chop!" This dress, too, is kind to Meredith's lines.

Teyla smiles encouragingly and pushes Joan toward the door. "Go. I will pick up and lock the door when I leave."

Meredith gives Joan a warm smile and murmurs, "You look nice." It's all a terrible idea, but Joan steps out in to the hall and follows the sway of Meredith's hips all the way across campus.

*

Later Joan won't be able to say if it was all the alcohol at the party or just the intoxicating way Meredith's lip gloss shone, the way her earrings twinkled out from under her hair. Joan's riding high on having done what was expected of her but in her very own way, and she knows that it's a risk, but she's bound and determined to see it through. She's not an ATA for her mother's sake or her grandmother's; she's walked this path and joined this house all for Meredith McKay. Surely she's earned what comes next. "Meredith," she calls.

Meredith can barely hear her over the thumping bass. She shouts back, "This place is destroying my eardrums! Want to take a walk?"

Joan nods and slips off to get their coats, and they step out in to the winter night together. They've been sorority sisters for two weeks now; they go everywhere together, and Joan's pretty sure she's not imagining the way Meredith's eyes slide off Joan's face and down her body sometimes. It's just the same way Joan's eyes do to Meredith.

Meredith's delivering a rambling discourse about optimal speaker settings and the relative necessity of floor-bending bass to certain categories of parties when Joan stops her. The sky above them is winter-clear and the stars shine like the diamond studs in Meredith's earlobes. Joan steps closer and whispers, "Is this okay?" She looks at Meredith's lips before making eye contact again, so there's no confusion. Meredith smells faintly of musky perfume.

"I-" Meredith's eyes flicker down to Joan's lips. She swallows. "Yes," she breathes, and they bridge the space between them.

Joan's never kissed a girl before, but it's not "a girl" she's interested in - it's Meredith she's kissing, and glad of it. The lip gloss adds a slick glide to the press of their mouths and tastes sweet when Joan tongues her way in. This is better than any fumbling high school boykissing Joan's ever had.

She shivers when they part, and only a little bit of it is due to the chill air that blows between them. Meredith takes her hand and they walk on in silence, Joan smiling shyly, happy.

*

Teyla's a regular sight at the Alpha Tau Alpha house, and all the girls there know what it means when she appears with her arms full of skirts.

"Come on, Joan."

"No." Joan shakes her head and zips up the skirt Teyla and Meredith have picked for her, a glossy black one with a slit up the side that looks dangerous. "Not this one. I can't move in it."

"I understand, Joan. I have had the same complaint." Teyla picks out one of the skirts Joan favors, another long A-line that gives Joan an almost bell shape.

"But isn't that the point? Don't you ever _want_ something hip hugging?" Meredith seems honestly confused, and maybe a little disappointed, so Joan won't kill her.

Instead, Joan shrugs. "Not here to be someone's eye candy. This kind is fine. It looks nice, doesn't invite ogling, and doesn't interfere with my strides."

Meredith mutters something, but it's lost in Teyla's next words.

"You should keep it." Teyla holds up a hand to forestall Joan's protests. "Truly, Joan, you wear these skirts more than I. I am happy to borrow them from you on occasion, but I believe they should remain here with you."

"Well. Okay, thanks Teyla."

Teyla smiles. "You are welcome, Joan. And now I must be off to practice." She hefts her bag and picks up her dangerous-looking lacrosse stick. "We have a game on Saturday, should either of you like to attend."

Meredith gives Teyla a half-smile back and raises a fist. "Go Athosians."

*

"Mer! Where's my hair gel?"

"How should I know? Do I look like some kind of oracle?"

Joan snorts in response and pushes past Meredith in to the bathroom. There, on the counter and open, is her hair gel. She snatches it up.

Meredith hides her hands.

"Meredith Renee McKay, _do NOT_ take my hair gel. And don't lie to me about it."

"Sorry. I just wanted to see what it would look like on me."

"Yeah," Joan sighs, sliding slowly down the wall to sit on the floor, knees drawn up. "Let's just say that you and I don't have the same hair. Do we really have to dress up for this thing? Like, wear-a-skirt dress up?"

"Pretty sure we do, yeah."

"I don't see what's so great about skirts. I'm not opposed to being presentable, I'll wear my nice slacks, you know?"

"I know," Meredith soothes. "But everyone else will be wearing a skirt, Joan."

"If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you?"

"Not the same, wise guy. Sometimes a woman's just gotta do what a woman's gotta do."

"I just don't-"

"Don't what? Joan, _what_ do you have against skirts?"

There's no one else in the bathroom. Joan can see under all the stalls, so she knows this is true. Speaking to the white tile, she admits, "I don't feel like me in them. And if I felt like not me in a good way, maybe I'd still wear them. But I'm not like you, Meredith. I can't wear clingy skirts and sashay down the hall and make all the boys wolf-whistle."

"Not everyone can be me, you know. And anyway, Joan, your style doesn't exactly invite wolf-whistling. Too refined. Although _I_ will, of course, whistle at you whenever you'd like." Meredith's getting that look on her face, the same one she has when she's finishing her astrophysics homework or making a seating chart for a formal dinner. She snaps her fingers three times, rapid fire. "I think I've got it. Come with me."

*

Joan puts on the skirt because Meredith makes her - they have _hours_ until dinner, so there's no reason to be dressed for it yet. At least she's still out of any fancy tops, since Mer let her stop at the camisole she wears under her blouses.

Meredith sits Joan on her bed and tucks herself in next to her. "Just- Try to feel like yourself, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Meredith breathes out and doesn't answer. Instead she kisses Joan, soft lips on hers, until they're both breathing harder and Joan's skin is tingling. Meredith presses forward, pushes Joan down until she's laid out diagonally across the bed.

Joan's breathing hitches as Meredith trails kisses down Joan's neck, traces the edge of Joan's camisole, cups Joan's breasts and drags her thumbs over Joan's nipples through the thin fabric. A mewling noise escapes Joan at that, and Meredith smiles. She loves it when Joan makes noise.

Meredith keeps teasing Joan with fingers and lips, tracing hypersensitive skin and pressing more kisses everywhere. She's hiked Joan's skirt up to her waist. Joan can smell her own arousal, can feel her panties dampening. "Meredith," she whines. "I- Ah- Please. _Please._"

"This is you, Joan, this is you in this skin and this skirt. This is you no matter what you're wearing, and this is me wanting you." Meredith's focus is almost too intense, refusing to break eye contact even as she slips her hand in Joan's panties. She's moving a finger carefully on Joan's clit, almost just right and not quite enough. "This is you, Joan. And this is me, with you."

Finally Meredith sees what she wants in Joan's face - she must, because her finger gets infinitesimally harder faster better and Joan can feel the pressure building, silver pooling in her hips, and she comes with waves shaking her whole frame, toes curling and fingers clenching, and finds she still knows exactly who she is.

*

Joan comes home grinning, her skirt swinging around her ankles. Meredith's right behind her, luscious in a tube top, and grousing full speed. Joan pauses in front of the entry way mirror to admire the picture they make. Meredith is all curves as always, clinging black pants and sparkling strapless top. She has a piece of yellow Caution tape wrapped around her, over her breasts. Joan's taller, even in flats, and she's wearing her favorite habitual outfit, the full skirt and tight top she'll forever associate with Meredith and her devious ways. Three years ago she couldn't have predicted any of this.

"This is just so- So- So _you,_ Joan Sheppard." Meredith's gesturing to the Caution tape, but Joan's taking in all of it.

"Yeah. It is."

_Fin_


End file.
